Off On A Tangent II
by CorvidQueen
Summary: a continuation of the most shameless of shameless plugs R & R what little there is;; Abandoned


__

__

_Dark and cold. Black and blood. Pain, incredible pain....._

_and fear. Fear and courage in the long night._

_"Aragorn!"_

_"Lit-oneen, anlthorath! Stand together!"_

_Voices echoing in the tortured sleep of troubled dreams, _

_black and blood, pain and fear, dark and cold._

_Death. So much death._

_But hope, always there was hope._

"Soloren, awake." 

Dark eyes suddenly wide as the girl jerked awake at her elvish name, uncertain panic in her disorientation, mind clouded with the fog of restless sleep. Strong hands gripped her trembling shoulders, fear gripping her heart but it lifted as the familiar face of an old friend met her frantic gaze. 

"What manner of dreams causes you to cry out into the night?" 

"Nightmares of the most unnatural kind, I fear for my friends in the south Moaln." She answered as the elf pushed her damp bangs from her eyes. 

For five years she had called Mirkwood home and for five years she had lived with Moaln, her voluntary host. As most elves, her was tall and he was fair, blond as the sun and eyes as if they were made of the sky. 

"Be soothed then, Legolas has sent word recently that he shall be returning before fall's end." He said, stroking the girl's dark curls. "They say he asked of you. Forgive us if we did not readily place you by your given name." 

"I have not gone by Mathis since my first year in Mirkwood, I hardly remember it myself." She answered with a slight smile, trying to shake the ill feeling that had nestled in her gut. "This black is deep and dark and familiar. I have felt it for nearly a month. It only grows more terrible the warning in my heart, I don't know what it means." 

Moaln didn't respond, eyes a slate blue in the early dawn as he allowed Mathis to grip his hand to her chest, watching her with the keen affection of a brother for his sister. 

"Something foul has been moving in the west with its eyes to the south. Scouts have been sent to investigate yet none have returned as of yet." He finally told her reluctantly to which she closed her eyes. 

"I know." 

Moaln started in surprise, Mathis smiling slightly as she traced circles in the palm of his hand. 

"Sometimes I dream of the past. Sometimes of the future. Sometimes of the present. Sometimes of nothing at all....that's when I sleep soundest." She said softly, eyes remaining half shut. "They will return today." 

"Wait." 

"Moaln-" 

"Just wait Soloren, until nightfall. Wait." 

Mathis watched him, even as the sun rose and bathed them in light. He pleaded silently until she finally conceded, sitting up. He kissed her forehead before setting off somewhat urgently, leaving her to her duties. She had promised not only her voice but her hands to the craftsmen that day, her delicate fingers ideal for weaving and her voice of even tone. 

Though many had voices much fairer than hers, hers was the tone most easily worked to and so they called to her, whether it was the healers or the weavers or the fighters or the teachers, every day was something and someone new. 

Some days she sang from sunrise to sun set, other for but minutes at a time. 

It was to her surprise that Moaln summoned her to the caverns mid-afternoon, Islingdur bearing her swiftly and safely to the hall of the king. Legolas looked very much like his father, and though Mathis had met him only once before, he seemed as kind and wise as his son. 

"Soloren, you seem far more elfish than I remember." King Greenleaf noted as the girl stood before him, a slight blush rising at his words. "You know why you have been summoned." 

He stood as she looked to her feet, motioning her to follow him down the hall. 

"For many days we have been aware of a rising evil. Though Sauron be defeated, his shadow still lingers. The darkness to which you were once bound had returned. He calls for you to return to him Soloren, Moaln has told me of your growing fears and dark dreams." 

"But Gandalf destroyed it, I was there." Mathis answered as they entered another chamber where three generals were gathered, each coming to immediate attention. 

"So he thought, as did we, but the Monit held sway over your father as well. Through him, it survived. It has taken him all these years to return to his former power and so he seeks not only revenge, but whatever power you gave him." The king answered, Mathis recoiling slightly. 

"Legolas, Elisar, Gimli, they're all in danger now that Gandalf is gone." She whispered, holding her middle as she felt her stomach turn and threaten. 

"We will protect them." The first of the three generals called at her sudden distress, the king nodding as he urged the girl forward. 

"Soloren, I called you here to ease your mind. It is by your hand that Tellen's archers will have the finest arrows and bows. It is by your voice that Dinlin's solders will march with courage and purpose to battle. And finally, it is by your spirit that Arsol's calvary shall ride like the wind." The King said, each bowing in turn. "Be at peace." 

Soloren swallowed her tears, nodding and smiling at their efforts to comfort her. They knew their efforts would fall for naught, if not drive her, but they had tried and she appreciated it greatly. 

"I will sleep easier tonight. Thank you my lords and my king." 

They bowed once more and Moaln led her back to where Islingdur waited. 

"You still mean to go." He said quietly as she swung aboard. 

"The Monit lives and he has saught for me. He knows I am in Mirkwood but dares not challenge the power of the elves." Mathis answered as she nudged her mount forward. 

"Then why not remain where you are safe? He is using your friends to draw you out, can't you see?" He asked, holding Islingdur at bay. 

"And should he succeeded, what then will save me?" She demanded. "The elves can not stand against him and men." 

"We will not fail." 

He could see the conflict within her, taking her hand in his as he forced her to pause and to think. 

"We. Will. Not. **_Fail_**." 

She offered no response as she pulled suddenly free, spurring Islingdur forward. The stallion bore her into the emerald deep of Mirkwood, leaving her in the outstretched branches of a willow tree. Her willow tree. The one place she felt as if no wrong could come to her, yet she found no peace in the tree's ancient shadows as she slipped into a catatonic trance. Her unease was simply intensified, images flashing past her mind's eyes. 

__

__

_A living shadow floating over an army of men...._

_Black and pain. Dark and death. One light, one hope, one chance._

_"Aragorn!"_

**_Wicked child, wicked child, I am coming to get you._**

Mathis started from her listless dreaming as the voice hissed in her ear, panic for a moment before she remembered where she was. 

"Soloren?" 

She calmed at the familiar voice and sound of her name, gaze meeting Moaln's almost spontaneously. 

"No elf can blend so readily with nature without making a conscience effort. One could stand in this very spot for hours and see nothing but leaves." He said softly as he moved to stand directly below her. 

"Do you remember when I first came here Moaln? This is the only place that felt somehow, familiar. Like home. Yet I told myself, 'you've never had a home before, if I have I don't remember it. So how could this, or any place, feel like home?'. This place no longer feels like home, no longer feels safe, no longer brings me calm. My dreams haunt me even in waking." She told him as she looked to the darkening sky, a stray tear sliding from the corner of her eye to grace his upturned face. "They will need me before the end." 

"If you must then ride with the army. Don't go alone." He pleaded as she descended from her perch, dropping lightly into his awaiting arms. 

"There are none that can keep pace with Islingdur, you know this." She whispered as he placed her lightly on her feet. 

He undid his sword belt as she called to her stallion, pressing it to her reluctant hands. 

"Take it." He ordered. "You and you alone will bring it back to me when this is all over. Best speed, my lady, Mathis." 

"I am not worthy of your friendship, thank you." She said, hugging him tightly as Islingdur haulted beside them. 

He had been saddled and cleaned, a cloak draped over the horn and saddlebags filled. Moaln was not the only one who knew she was leaving. 

"I will come back to you and Mirkwood, I swear it." She promised firmly, fighting back tears as she wheeled her moutn and sent him forward towards darkness. 


End file.
